


a dream worth fighting for

by lost_decade



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Canadian Grand Prix 2017, Crack, M/M, Telepathy, general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 00:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11196780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/pseuds/lost_decade
Summary: “What was that about back there,” Lewis asks. “The Nico thing I mean?”Sir Patrick considers him for a moment. “I tried to downplay it as much as I could,” he replies, voice deep and theatrical even in conversation. “I could've said much more, I mean Jesus your head is a complicated place."





	a dream worth fighting for

**Author's Note:**

> This is rather silly, sorry!

Lewis is beaming, soaked with champagne and basking in the glory of a perfect weekend. Almost perfect. But he isn't going to let his thoughts of who's on the podium with him and who never will be again affect him now. He really isn't.

He turns back to Patrick Stewart for the end of the interview, still in disbelief that anyone would agree to drink out of Dan’s shoe.

“You were in the lead for the whole race, from pole to the last lap,” Patrick says. “How does that feel? What impact does it have?”

“I’ll tell you that in a second, but can you read my mind?”

The actor looks into Lewis’ eyes, wincing a bit.

“You're happy, but you really wish your old teammate was here,” he says, almost sheepishly.

The smile stays on Lewis’ face even as his eyes are asking _what the hell man_.  
He makes a joke out of it because what the fuck else is he supposed to do, but as they walk off the podium he grabs the older man's arm and pulls him to one side.

“What was that about back there,” Lewis asks. “The Nico thing I mean?”

Sir Patrick considers him for a moment. “I tried to downplay it as much as I could,” he replies, voice deep and theatrical even in conversation. “I could've said much more, I mean Jesus your head is a complicated place, not somewhere I want to hang around for very long. But the thing is I am.”

Lewis sets the trophy down on the floor, looking him in the eye, puzzled. 

“You are what?” 

“A telepath.” 

Lewis snorts incredulously, waiting for the actor’s face to crack. He remains perfectly serious.

“You…are you shitting me, man? Professor X isn't real. You're not actually Professor X.” 

Patrick smiles as if he's had this very same conversation many times before.   
“No, Professor X is regretfully not real. A strange coincidence that I should be cast as him but a coincidence nonetheless. Regrettably I'm unable to lie about my findings when asked directly, but like I said I tried to be as kind as possible.” 

Lewis stares at him open mouthed. He can't just stand here in the corridor, he needs to get back to the garage to celebrate with the team. But fuck. 

“Okay,” he says, drawing out the last syllable. “Right. I have to go.” 

“You should call him, I think,” Patrick calls after him as he’s walking away. “I saw some interesting things in his head that day I met you both in Geneva at the IWC. He was thinking about a lot more than just watches I assure you.” 

Lewis nods, gripping the trophy tightly as he heads down to the Mercedes garage in a daze.

*

“Hey, Nico,” Lewis begins, asking himself what the hell he's doing as he sits down on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, the sun starting to set over Montreal. “I was thinking it was too bad we didn't get to meet up in Monaco. I'm heading home in a couple of days if you, uh if you wanted to?” 

There is silence for a moment, Lewis wondering if he's made a mistake here. _I miss you,_ he thinks, focussing on the words in the hope that Nico will somehow hear them - because apparently that's a thing that people can do now.

“Yeah I mean we could give it a go,” Nico replies eventually, and Lewis is glad this is a phone call because Nico definitely doesn't need to see the stupid smile he knows is all over his face at just the thought of catching up again, alone and away from Formula One. 

“Congratulations by the way,” Nico continues, “I know how much it means to you, the Senna thing.”

Lewis can still remember the day he’d told Nico how he felt when Senna had died, exactly where he'd been when he heard the news and how it continued to haunt him, the loss of his idol. They'd been teenagers when that conversation took place, Lewis shy at how choked he got just talking about it. Nico had hugged him.

Nico had understood.

Lewis thinks of it now, how the German had felt against him, how they'd kissed after.

They talk for a few minutes more until Lewis hangs up and heads down to the afterparty.

*

“I need to thank you,” Lewis yells over the music later that night, an arm draped around Patrick’s shoulder. 

“What for?”

“I called Nico. I think things might work out,” Lewis replies. And it could just be the fact he's still riding the wave of adrenaline from the win, or the few vodkas he's just had, but yeah he really believes things might be okay.

“That's very good to know, Ian will be pleased.”

“Ian....”

“McKellan.” 

Lewis thinks he might fall over. “Is he,” he pauses, “ _like you_?” 

Patrick seems to find this quite hysterical, laughing as he hugs Lewis affectionately. 

“There’s no such thing as telepaths, Lewis. Just a couple of old thespians who hate to see two people so obviously in love waste it. Give my love to Nico when you see him.” 

He disappears towards the bar then, Lewis staring after him trying to process what the actual fuck is going on.

Nico would find this whole thing hilarious, he thinks. And he can picture the two of them laughing about it, maybe not just yet but definitely one day.


End file.
